


Snowed In

by ragingserenity



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Clarke is a pain slut, Cunnilingus, Dom Bellamy Blake, Dom/sub, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Impact Play, Rope Bondage, Smut, Sub Clarke Griffin, The 100 WTFluff Challenge, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 00:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20612288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragingserenity/pseuds/ragingserenity
Summary: On a ski trip, Clarke and Bellamy are surprised by a blizzard and get stuck in their cabin. What is one to do with lots of time on one's hands?





	Snowed In

**Author's Note:**

> The fluff: established couple Bellarke get snowed in while on a ski trip.
> 
> The badwrong: punishment in the form of impact play.  
Fair warning: Clarke is going to be in (a lot of) pain. She loves it, but she's going to hurt.

The snow had caught them completely off guard. One moment, they’d been ambling up the hill to their little rented cottage, Clarke’s pink and black snowboard slung over her shoulder and Bell’s blazing red ski’s over his, and the next they’d been surrounded by snow too thick to see more than a few paces ahead. Thankfully, they’d still been all bundled up in their snow gear, so all they really had to do was pull their shades down and scarves up and link hands so they wouldn’t lose each other. Even more thankfully, Bell had insisted on leaving at least some light on in the cottage, which had become their only indicator of where they were going.

The trek through the blizzard took probably five times as long as it should’ve, and Clarke was frozen to the bone despite her heavy snow gear, by the time that Bell fumbled the key into the lock with fingers frozen stiff. Somehow, they tumbled inside in a flurry of snow that followed them in, and only them throwing their combined weight at the door was enough to convince the rest of the storm to stay the fuck out.

Fallen onto her back in the middle of the entryway, Clarke began to giggle as she swiped her shades and scarf off her face. Bell came down next to her and joined in with a chuckle of his own, until the single light above them started flickering.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Guess the powerlines are getting beaten up out there…”

“We should probably turn on the generator,” Clarke suggested.

“You mean  _ I _ should turn on the generator, Princess,” Bell retorted.

Clarke inclined her head. “If you would be so kind?”

Bell huffed, but managed to fumble his way back onto his feet, and stumbled off toward the basement where the backup generator was installed. Apparently, power outages were a common thing in these parts – common enough to equip every rental cottage in a twenty mile radius with their own generators.

By the time he returned (and the lights had stabilized), Clarke had extracted herself from most of her snowlogged and sweaty clothing, standing in the middle of the small living room in nothing but a sports bra and thong, spreading her discarded clothes over furniture to dry. She winked at Bell before she skipped upstairs to take a desperately needed hot shower.

Both were clean, dry, and dressed in loungewear in short order; a few more minutes had them sitting under a mound of blankets on the couch downstairs, sipping hot chocolates in front of a pleasantly roaring fireplace.

“I didn’t think this was actually gonna happen,” Clarke said. “The forecast said twenty percent chance.  _ Twenty. _ ”

“No use lamenting that,” Bell replied. “You can still hear it going outside…” He glanced at the windows, which were completely obscured with snow. “I bet by now we’re halfway snowed in already. I don’t think we’ll be getting out of here until the weather changes and they get heavy vehicles up here to clear the roads.”

Clarke snickered. “We could always jump out of an upstairs window.”

“And break our legs when we fall through the snow to the ground, to then freeze to death?” He raised an eyebrow at her, taking a sip from his mug. “No, thank you.”

She bumped his shoulder. “Spoilsport.”

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks. Clarke drifted sideways until her head rested on Bell’s shoulder, cushioned by one of the ridiculously thick sweaters his mom had made. She could almost completely forget the raging storm outside… If it weren’t for that nagging feeling in the back of her mind, that little voice that told her that she’d almost messed up. If Bell hadn’t insisted so much on keeping the light on… But he had. And they were gonna be  _ fine _ . And as for that nagging feeling, there was one surefire way of dealing with that...

“I’ve been bad,” she said, voice steady, if quiet. “I didn’t wanna leave the light on, and without that, we would’ve been lost. And then I made you do all the work in here while I was just lounging on the couch.”

Bell hummed in response, the vibrations carrying over to Clarke. The first point was true, they both knew that, yet Bell would never, ever tell her  _ I told you so _ . And the second point was so far from the truth… She didn’t look at Bell, but she felt him shift ever so little, heard the click of his mug being set down on the coffee table, watched his large, tan hand approach hers and move her cup onto the coffee table as well. Then he stoods, letting the blankets slip to the floor, and pulled her up with him. Her lips curled into a small smile until his hand gripped her chin and made her look up at him – she furrowed her brow, pouting a little.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Princess,” he said, voice gravelly and low, a shiver running down her back.

“Yes, Sir,” she responded. “Yes, I have been.”

“You should be punished for your transgressions.”

She hummed. “Yes, Sir.” Oh, yes. She could already feel the little voice going quieter. This would be exactly what she needed.

Bellamy stepped back, pointing to a spot on the rug not quite in front of the fireplace, but well within the reddish-orange glow cast by the fire. “Strip. I’ll be right back.”

Clarke waited for him to reach the stairs before she moved, dropping her clothes in a heap on the couch before she took up her spot on the rug. And if it was just a little further over in front of the fireplace than where he’d pointed, so what? He wouldn’t know, right?

“I see you’ve decided to be a brat today, Princess,” Bellamy said, making her jump a little bit. She hadn’t heard him come back down. She didn’t dare turn, kept facing the fireplace, relishing in the heat that caressed her bare skin.

“I don’t know what you mean, Sir.”

He dropped a few coils of rope on the coffee table, by the sound of things, and then moved behind her, teasing her by running a coil along her upper arm, across her shoulders and back, and down the other, the slightly rough hemp doing something between tickling and scratching pleasantly.

“You’re standing a foot away from where I told you to,” he replied, voice measured, restraint dripping from his tongue.

He removed the rope. The ends hit the floor, and then he pulled her arms behind her back until the insides of her wrists touched. Rope wound around and in between them in moments, and by the time she’d taken another breath, they were locked together.

“Safe word?” His voice rumbled in her ear, causing delicious shivers to run down her back.

“Cherry Pie,” she told him, barely keeping a tremor out of her voice.

“Good girl.” He picked up more rope, and soon her elbows were locked in place as well, maybe six inches apart. The position strained her shoulders a little, but they both knew she’d been in tighter ties than this.

He rummaged around behind her some more, then gently pulled her back a couple of steps before tying both of her ankles to different legs of the coffee table, spreading her legs lewdly wide. Clarke almost fell over when she shifted, unable to regain her balance with her arms bound behind her. When she was stable again, he had her bend over and away from the table a little.

“That’s ten for disobeying,” Bellamy told her evenly, palming her ass with one hand. “Another ten for being lazy.” His hand wandered, up her back and onto her tits, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. “And a final twenty for almost getting us lost in a blizzard.” His other hand pushed onto her back, making her bend forward a little. Holding her up by her tit, he did something to the rope around her elbows, and then he let go.

Clarke yelped, but only really “fell” an inch before a sharp tug on her elbows kept her in place. Bellamy adjusted the rope that he’d clearly attached to one of the overhead beams, pulling her back up a little bit, until he was satisfied.

“You okay, Princess?”

She sighed happily. “Yes, Sir.”

“Not too much tension on your shoulders?”

She managed to shrug in response. “No, they’re fine. For a while, anyway.”

He nodded. “Since we’re out in the middle of nowhere, buried up to probably the second floor in snow, I’ll give you a choice of gag vs. no gag.”

Clarke took a deep breath. Whenever they’d play at their apartment, chances would be pretty good that some of their neighbors would be home, so Bellamy would usually gag her. Not that she’d object to that. She loved the added layer of helplessness, and, of course, the fact that she didn’t have to keep herself in check at all. The couple of times they’d played without an actual gag at hand, Bellamy had insisted on over the knee spanking so he could keep a hand over her mouth. She had often wondered what the whole experience would be like if she wasn’t gagged. Would she feel as helpless and under his control? Would she like it even more, to have her voice unrestricted, yet still be subject to his will?

“I’ll go without, Sir,” she decided. "Though… could I change my mind later?”

Bellamy grinned at her, his eyes already quite dark. She shook a little from the shiver that his expression caused to run through her. “You can always beg me for a gag, Princess,” he said simply. “But once it’s in,  _ I _ decide if and when it comes out again.”

Clarke licked her lips, wishing she could rub her legs together, but the ropes kept her thighs frustratingly well apart. “I understand, Sir.”

Bellamy stepped behind her again and ran his hands over her ass. “The first ten, Princess, will be delivered by my open palm to your ass. You will count them out loud for me, and thank me for them.”

“Yes, Sir.” That, in itself, was nothing unusual – Bellamy loved hearing her try to talk through whatever gag he’d put on her. However, just being able to speak her words freely would be a new challenge; normally she just had to mumble a quick “Thank you, Sir” around whatever filled her mouth. She quickly laid out a few words that she was sure were going to go straight to his cock.

He withdrew his hands until only his fingertips were still touching her flesh, running them down the crack of her ass to her very sensitive inner thighs. Then they were gone altogether, and Clarke tensed, waiting for the blow. And she waited, breath locked in her chest. When she couldn’t hold it any longer and let it out, just to suck the next one in right after, he struck.

“AAaaahhh! Fuck!” He hadn’t hit her hard, really, just at a moment when she’d been unable to really brace for it. “One, Sir. Thank you for helping me make up for my behavior, Sir.”

“See, Princess?” He rubbed her cheek, and it really only stung a little bit, Clarke thought. “You can be a really good girl if you want to.”

“Yes, SAAAAAhhhh!” He’d done it again, striking her left cheek this time, again catching her unprepared. “Two, Sir. Thank you for helping me make up for my behavior, Sir.”

“Really, Princess,” he continued, tickling both cheeks with his fingertips now. “You’re so well behaved now, I really don’t understand why you keep misbehaving every so often.”

She kept quiet, intent on preparing for the next strike.

“No snarky remark? Maybe I’ve cured you of your insolence permanently.”

Clarke’s resolve held, as did the tension in her asscheeks.

“Pity,” Bellamy said, taking his fingertips away. Clarke let out an involuntary breath, and he struck again, both cheeks in quick succession this time.

“GAAAAH! OW! Fuck!” Clarke yelled, twisting her torso to and fro in the ropes holding her in place. “Three and four, Sir! Thank you, Sir!” There went her carefully crafted words. He’d hit harder this time, and she could already feel the heat spreading over her ass. Her cunt was surely dripping by now, especially with her imagining the shapes of his handprints on her pale skin.

The next six blows came quickly, barely leaving her time to count them and thank him in any way; by the last one she was panting, and her ass was  _ really _ stinging.

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked, moving in front of her. He gently gripped her chin and tilted her face up to meet his eyes.

“I’m – ah – I’m okay, Sir,” she managed.

“Good, because you’re not done.” He let her head slump forward again, letting her rest against his chest while he busied himself with the ropes. A moment later, her elbows were no longer attached to the ceiling and she fell forward, resting her full weight on him. “I’m gonna bend you backwards now, Princess,” he announced, and followed through without waiting for her response. A couple of minutes later, Clarke found herself facing the ceiling, or the couch, if she let her head hang. Her arms were attached to the coffee table by a new rope that wrapped around her wrist bonds and forced her back into a near perfect arch. As an added side effect – or perhaps the primary intent – the position presented her tits quite neatly. Oh, and it also totally exposed her cunt.

Bellamy stepped over her and into her field of vision. “Have you been enjoying the freedom of your mouth, Princess? Or would you like to revert your decision?”

It was true, she did indeed enjoy being able to scream without restraint. She was going to take advantage of this opportunity for as long as she could. Clarke took as deep a breath as she could, which was not much, seeing how the position stretched and flattened her chest. “I think I’ll stay without one, thank you, Sir.”

“Have it your way, Princess.” He vanished again, and she heard him rummaging around. “The next ten will be delivered by the flogger to your cunt, Princess. You will count them out for me. If you lose count, I’m afraid I’ll have to start over.”

_ Fuck _ . Clarke bit her lip, only narrowly keeping herself from begging for the gag now. Bellamy had only told explicitly told her he’d start over a handful of times in the beginning – it was an understood rule by now. The fact that he announced it now meant that he was going to try his damndest to  _ make _ her lose count, and that could not be good.

The tails of the flogger swished audibly through the air, and Clarke could swear that she felt the moving air on her exposed, drenched cunt. She breathed in, and he struck. “AH! O–” Strike. “T–” Strike. “Th–” Strike. Strike. “OHHHH, Fuck!”

Clarke’s head was spinning. The blows were barely that, licks, really, but they all stoked the fire that was burning in her core.

“How many, Princess?”

“I…” She wasn’t sure. Fuck. How… “Four?”

“Is that a question, Princess?”

“No. Four, Sir.”

He chuckled. “It was five, actually. I guess I’ll just have to start over, then.”

Clarke gritted her teeth. He was enjoying that a little too much. But then, so was she. So she breathed in again, and said the words that good little Clarke was expected to say, “Yes, Sir.”

“Ready, Princess?” He didn’t wait for her response, instead circling the flogger through the air a couple of times, striking just as she opened her mouth.

“Ah! One, Sir.” It barely stung anyway, almost caressing her cunt rather than striking.

Bellamy followed up with two more of comparable intensity, giving her ample time in between to count them out. Then he stepped up, swishing the flogger faster and faster, delivering a series of ever harder strikes.

“Ah! AAH! Ohhhh! Ow! Mmmmmhhhmmm!” Clarke yelped and moaned along. “Ohhhmmm…”

“Princess?”

Right. He stopped. “Two, three, four, five, and six, Sir,” she managed. Her cunt tingled something fierce now, the strokes stinging a little more now, but mostly they’d just served to make sure every spare ounce of blood in her body flowed to her pussy.

“Good girl.”

“Tha–” Just like that, he swung the flogger again, striking her cunt the remaining four times in quick succession.

“Fu–! Oh–! Mmmmhhmm! Gaahh!” Clarke twisted her hips for a few moments, desperate yet completely helpless to protect herself from the blows. “S..seven,” she gasped when he let up. “Eight…” She took as deep a breath as the position allowed. “Nine, and ten, Sir.”

Bellamy’s face appeared above hers, his eyebrow raised; a smirk was barely visible beneath his mustache. “Very impressive, Princess. I was hoping you’d need another restart.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she managed in response. Her heart was calming down again, at least, though the same couldn’t be said about her cunt, which was almost literally on fire.

He vanished again, and a few moments later, the rope holding her arms down to the coffee table went slack, and then he helped her straighten up. Clarke closed her eyes for a few seconds, fighting off the rush of blood leaving her head now that she was fully vertical again.

Bellamy rumbled into her ear, “You okay, Princess?”

She nodded, squeezing her eyes closed, then carefully blinked them open. “I’m fine, Sir.”

“I think what you meant was, ‘I’m horny as hell, Sir, and I would like to cum,’” he said, and damn if he wasn’t smirking.

“That’s very… accurate, Sir,” she replied. “But you’re not done punishing me yet, Sir.”

“No,” came his almost whispered reply. His hands crept up her sides and cupped her tits, thumbs and forefingers rubbing her nipples. Clarke sucked in a breath just before he pinched them hard. “I’m not done with you yet, Princess.”

“NNNnnhhhnnn,” Clarke moaned through clenched teeth until he let go of her nipples a moment later. Her head was spinning still, and she knew she was only halfway through her punishment. That, and he had basically just promised her that she would cum afterwards. He might not have said it as such, but unless she was particularly bad (and in the mood to be denied), he always made sure that she came. More than once, usually.

“I’m going to retie your arms for the next set,” Bellamy said, and quickly removed the ropes around her elbows and wrists. She was allowed a short reprieve while he straightened out the ropes, coiling one and putting it back on the coffee table, before he came around in front of her, holding the other rope. When she was done rolling her shoulders and massaging the rope marks, he had her hold out her wrists and proceeded to quickly bind them together, wrapping the tails of the rope around the binding to create a bar about six inches long. Next, he threw a long piece of rope over one of the exposed beams in the ceiling and wrapped the ends around her new wrist bonds, climbing onto the coffee table to adjust the slack until Clarke’s arms were stretched straight up as far as they could go, with only the ropes around her ankles and the legs of the coffee table preventing her from being bodily lifted into the air.

Clarke took a few shallow breaths, her chest once more stretched, again limiting her lungs’ ability to inflate. Her head wasn’t really spinning anymore, but the tightness of her enforced stretch made the fire in her cunt flare up again. She tried again, futilely, to rub her thighs together, but the split enforced by ropes and wood was too wide to close.

“Princess?” came Bellamy’s voice. Clarke wasn’t even sure how or when she’d closed her eyes.

“I’m okay,” she replied, blinking. He stood in front of her, the cane resting in his hands. “We can continue.”

He nodded. “The next ten will be delivered by the cane to your tits, Princess.” He paused, no doubt watching the way her eyes widened. Her tits were sensitive as hell, and he knew that. Clarke ground her teeth together, but held his gaze. She had asked for this, after all. “Would you like a gag to chew on?”

Clarke made to shake her head, then paused. If she declined, she knew he would do his utmost to make her scream as loud as she could. Then again, for one, she didn’t want to give in, she wanted to show him that she could take whatever he could dish out. For another, if she actually were to give in, he would probably go extra hard anyway, to make her scream  _ through _ the gag just as loudly as she would without one. Narrowing her eyes at him, Clarke shook her head once. Her reply was almost clipped in tone. “No, thank you. Sir.”

“Your choice, Princess,” he said, then moved to her right. “You don’t have to keep count this time.”

A shiver ran down Clarke’s spine. She swallowed, then looked straight ahead. It would only be worse if she watched the cane. “Thank you, Sir. I’m ready.”

A moment of silence passed. Clarke’s heartbeat was picking up speed again, and she felt the blood rush in her ears.

Swish.

“OOOOOwwwwwwmmmmmm!” Clarke yelled. The cane had struck fully across her tits, hitting both of her nipples flat on. She panted a few breaths, in and out. She glanced over at Bellamy, cane pointed down at the ground.

“One,” he intoned.

Clarke closed her eyes, leaned her head sideways against her arm.

Swish.

“FUCK! Fuckfuckfuck!” Both again, this time on the underside. Fire erupted from her skin where he’d struck, and simultaneously, the heat in her cunt grew.

“Two.”

Clarke tried to steady her breathing, but he struck again before she could. Swish. Swish.

“MMMMaaaaahhh!” Clarke screamed. Two strokes, side by side, to the tops of her tits. Twin lines of pure fire, fire that traveled through her veins and down to her crotch. Her cunt pulsed almost painfully, yearning for release. Clarke’s head started spinning again.

“Four.”

Clarke gave up the fight for a steady breath and just let her head hang down, eyes screwed shut as if that could tune out the pain.

Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish.

“MOTHERFUCKER! OW! OHHHH! FFffff…” Clarke exploded in pain, trailing off as tears sprung from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Her tits were burning with pain now, so much that she couldn’t tell where he’d hit anymore.

“Clarke?” His hands were on her cheeks, lifting her head up. “Are you okay?”

She hiccupped, sniffled a little. When she opened her eyes, he was right there in front of her, his brows knit together. She gave a nod, as best as she could.

“Talk to me, baby,” he implored.

“I’m okay, Sir,” she replied. It wasn’t really a lie. Her tits were on fire, though of a different kind than her cunt, yet… She was going to see this through. “Please, Sir, would you continue my punishment?”

Bellamy’s gaze dropped, no doubt to look at her poor tits. Clarke closed her eyes again. If she looked now, she  _ might _ just change her mind. She didn’t want to.

“What’s your safe word, Princess?”

She drew in a shaky breath. “Cherry pie, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He let go of her then, resuming his position off to her side. “Two more to go.”

Clarke straightened, holding her gaze ahead again. Waiting.

A moment passed. Another. Just as Clarke exhaled, Bellamy brought the cane down again for the final two strokes.

Clarke’s mouth opened in a silent scream. Her tits felt like they were balls of molten lava, burning away at her. She barely registered the way her fingers clenched around the ropes holding her up, or how her toes curled against the carpet. The world seemed to stand still for a few seconds, when Clarke’s entire perception was reduced to the impact points on her tits. Then her lungs remembered how to breathe.

“OOOOWWWWWWWWW! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWDDDDD!”

Bellamy was beside her instantly, pushing her hair back out of her face, cradling her cheeks. “Ten,” he whispered into her ear.

Clarke shook with relief, letting her tears flow freely. She’d done it. She only realized Bellamy was untying her when she started swaying after he’d released her wrists, but he quickly picked her up and deposited her on the couch, covering her shivering body with a blanket. By the time her shaking had subsided and she could sit up by herself, she found a refilled cup of hot chocolate in front of her on the coffee table, sitting innocently amid coils of ropes. She looked up, finding Bellamy sitting on a dining chair across from her, forehead wrinkled.

“Hey,” she croaked, taken aback herself at the sound of her voice. She picked up the cup and sipped a little of the delicious, hot liquid, letting it soothe her throat.

“How bad does it hurt?” he asked after a minute.

“About… eight?” Clarke really wasn’t sure. It was not the most pain she’d ever endured, that much she knew, but damn, now that the adrenaline was slowly washing out of her system, she could feel the burning lines on her tits. They’d make shocking bruises soon.

She drained her cup quickly. “You didn’t finish.”

He shook his head. “I… didn’t think it was safe, Clarke.”

She nodded. It was his call after all, how far he thought he could push her.  _ Safely _ . Well, as far as safety went in this type of activity anyway. “I… honestly, I’m not sure I could’ve taken more, right then.” She locked eyes with him. “But I do want to finish, Sir.” When he opened his mouth, she added, “I  _ need _ to take my whole punishment.  _ Please _ .”

He closed his mouth again, nibbling on his bottom lip for a moment. Then he nodded. “If that’s what you want,  _ Princess _ .”

He led her to the bedroom upstairs, where he had her lie down on the bed on her back. Clarke sucked in a breath when her ass touched the sheets, but the sting of his hands had already mostly faded to a dull ache. Bellamy disappeared briefly back downstairs, reemerging with two handfuls of ropes. A few minutes later, Clarke couldn’t move an inch, her wrists and ankles anchored to the bedposts, stretching her out spread eagle.

Once he had checked the ropes twice, Bellamy climbed on top of her, straddling her stomach. He carefully traced her tits with his fingertips, making Clarke hiss and mewl. He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, soft and sweet, the tip of his tongue just barely poking out to tickle her lips. Clarke’s eyes closed of their own accord, and her breathing deepened until her chest pushed against the bracket of his thighs. She waited a few moments after he pulled back, then slowly blinked her eyes open again.

A pink ball-gag hung above her face, its black leather strap pulled taut between Bellamy’s hands. Clarke licked her lips once, then obediently opened her mouth wide. The ball went in, and Bellamy tightened the strap behind her head.

“Alright,” he whispered. “I’ve decided that the last set of ten will not be impacts. Instead, the last ten will be…” He smirked down at her. “Orgasms.”

Clarke’s eyes popped open wide. “Mmhrmmf?”

“Yep.” Bellamy climbed off of her, then settled back down on the bed between her legs, Clarke’s favorite rabbit-style vibrator in his hand. “Ten orgasms, Princess. Think you can handle that?”

A little shiver took her at the thought. He’d tortured her with forced orgasms enough times for her to know that he was  _ not _ letting her off easy. Whatever. She’d taken the cane to her tits. She could do this, too. More than that, really. She  _ wanted _ this. “Eff, Frr.”

“Good girl.” He got up again, rummaged around in his bag beside the bed, and then pressed a tennis ball into her hand. “Since you’re gagged now, this will serve as your safe signal. Drop it, chuck it at me, whatever.”

Clarke nodded. “Eff, Frr.”

Without further ado, Bellamy got back in position between her legs. Clarke heard him chuckle. “Would you believe that you’re still fucking  _ gushing _ , Princess?”

She didn’t feel the need to respond to that, and when he casually stroked his fingertip from her vagina to her clit, she really  _ couldn’t _ , even if she had wanted to. Her cunt was still very much on fire, and the single touch sent lightning through her body. Her arms and legs stiffened, her jaw clamped down on the gag, and out of her throat erupted an almost primal, “UUuuuhhnnnnnggg!”

Bellamy didn’t wait for her to get comfortable. He dove straight in, inserting first one, then two, and very quickly three fingers into her cunt, going from a barely there feeling to a burning stretch that stoked the fires even more. His mouth settled on her clit, applying incredible suction, and before she even realized it, Clarke’s whole body locked up. Her muscles spasmed, fighting against the ropes to curl up, but ultimately failed. She faintly heard a muffled noise as waves of heat and pleasure washed over her. Her breathing stopped, it felt like; her lungs burned, demanding air. Her eyes squeezed shut, stars erupting behind them nonetheless.

Clarke couldn’t tell what changed, not with her head spinning and all her nerve endings on fire, but eventually, her body managed to drag some air into her lungs. Only to expel it all again in a drawn out, keening noise.

“That was one, Princess.” Bellamy’s voice cut through the sensory overload, and Clarke gasped. After a minute, her body calmed down a little, muscles no longer spasming. He still had  _ three _ fingers inside of her, stretching her cunt open, but at least he kept them still. Oh, and his mouth was no longer on her clit. She panted, weakly lifting her head to look down at him. “Mmh?”

“Nine more to go,” he confirmed.

Clarke dropped her head back onto the pillow, and closed her eyes.  _ Fuck _ . The orgasm hadn’t even taken much of the edge off. Her cunt was pulsing around his thick, long fingers, as if her heart had relocated to her crotch.

Bellamy’s fingers started moving again, going deep, triggering all of her sensitive spots. His thumb joined in, rubbing over her clit, and Clarke nearly lost it again all over, tensing and trying to get away. The ropes made sure she couldn’t.

Free hand settling on her pelvis, Bellamy rose and peered down at her. “Ready, Princess?”

Clarke shook her head, whimpering at him. At the same time, she clutched the ball tighter in her hand.

“Here goes…”

Clarke breathed in deeply, tension building in her gut, below, everywhere. Bellamy’s fingers sawed in and out of her cunt now, thumb tickling her clit on every pass. She could feel it, just…

“MMMMMMHHHHHHHHMMMMM! FFFFFKKKKKK!”

Bellamy stopped moving his hand as soon as the dam broke, keeping his fingers buried deep inside of her as Clarke rode the waves. This one passed quicker, and didn’t slam her quite as hard as the first one had. Still, some of her muscles still spasmed a little when Bellamy started over.

“ _ Peef _ ,” Clarke begged, unsure herself if she wanted him to stop or go faster. Not that it mattered. He dug his fingers in deep, rubbing up against that spot inside of her while his thumb pressed against her clit, and she was gone again. “NNNNNNNNNHHHHHHHH! MMH! MMH!”

“Three,” he said, giving her only a second of calm before he moved again.

Clarke’s clit was sore already.  _ Three _ . Pain radiated through her when he started rubbing it again, but at the same time she tried to lift her pelvis, to push it closer to him and his horrible – wonderful – fingers.

“MMMMMMMMMMMMNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGG!”

“Four.”

He withdrew his fingers, giving Clarke a moment’s reprieve, before he shoved the vibrator all the way inside of her, settling the little rabbit ears around her clit.

Clarke barely heard the click when he turned it on before everything became a mess of vibrations and too much sensory input.

“Clarke?”

She blinked her eyes open. What…

“You okay, baby?”

Bell was leaning over her. Stroking her cheek. Clarke opened her mouth, realizing that he’d taken the gag out at some point. And her arms and legs were no longer stretched out wide. She nodded, not trusting her voice quite yet. The last thing she remembered was cumming, a lot, and screaming…

He settled down onto the bed, cuddling up to her side. “You had me worried there for a minute, Clarke.”

Clarke swallowed. Her body positively thrummed with… something. Orgasmic energy? Really, she should be all wiped out if he really coaxed ten orgasms out of her, but somehow… “I… I feel pretty good, now, actually.” She chuckled. “Aside from my tits and my clit burning like hell.” She turned her head to look into his eyes. “How long was I out?”

“Just a moment, really… Well,  _ out _ out. You were mostly incoherent for about five minutes or so.”

She breathed out. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow.” He grinned, then planted a kiss on her upper lip. “I’m honestly not sure how many times you came at the end. I made sure it was at least six times, but…”

Clarke shook her head slightly. “I think I need a break from sex for a week now.” Seeing his face fall slightly, she added with a smirk, “But I loved every second of it. And, you know, by tomorrow I might change my mind.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” Bell replied, leaning in for a soft kiss. “I’ll go check on our supplies and see about making dinner. You… just stay up here and relax for a little while.”

As he extracted himself from the bed, Clarke’s eyes involuntarily locked onto his crotch, and the massive bulge in his sweatpants.

“Bell?”

He stopped with one knee on the bed and the other on the floor. “What?”

She looked into his eyes, then pointedly at his crotch. “I just figured out what I want for dessert, that’s all.”

Bell chuckled and shook his head. “Chill out, Clarke. Let’s get some real food into you first.”

She smiled sweetly. “Yes, Sir.”


End file.
